What You're Falling On
by Lizardbeth J
Summary: When Sharon doesn't return from the basestar, Helo has trouble coping. Kara tries to help, in her own way. Rapture AU. HeloSharon, minor HeloKara


The outer door opened and Helo glanced over. Seeing Kara coming in, he turned his gaze back to the ceiling. The thought struck that he was mirroring what Sharon had done to him, when she'd been consumed by her grief and rage over Hera.

It felt fitting that he should do it for her, now.

Kara moved up to the bars and heaved an annoyed breath. "You are a stupid bastard, aren't you?" He tried to let her mocking words flow over him, but instead they were burrs, clinging and poking at raw skin. "Getting thrown in hack? Attacking Roslin?"

He folded his hands beneath his head and wanted to ignore her. But his own words were there, on the tip of his tongue, and whatever restraint he'd had was gone. So he retorted, coldly, "Yeah. It's usually your job, but you were too busy frakking Apollo, I guess."

There was a brief silence, but he didn't look to see if it hurt her or not. He didn't really care.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," she said, taking a breath. "Look, I'm sorry Sharon didn't make it back. But the way the Cylons seem to find us whenever the frak they want, there's still a chance --"

He cut her off, not wanting any empty words, or empty promises. "She couldn't get away," he said, trying to be controlled, but with an edge of… condescension, that Kara just wasn't getting it. She didn't know everything. In fact, she didn't really know anything. "That means they caught her. She's a _traitor_ to them, and there's only one thing they do to traitors. They box them. Do you know what that is? The Cylons take all the memories, the thoughts, everything that makes Sharon S_haron_ and they put them on a memory card. Then they throw the card down a well. That's how they kill the ones they don't want anymore."

"You don't know that's what happened," Kara protested. "Maybe she just couldn't find a ship to get off the basestar. Maybe she woke up in the wrong place. You can't give up hope, Karl. Not so soon. Believe me, I know --"

He laughed once. "You do, huh? So why are you hell bent on throwing it away?"

Her lips tightened, holding back angry words. "This isn't about me."

He had to agree with that. "No, it's not."

"I know you're angry --"

He squeezed his eyes shut and his hands balled into fists as hot tension curled through him, and he stiffened, trying to keep still, keep it down. "You don't know anything," he bit out. "You think you know. But you don't. I _killed her_. I watched her die. Made _sure _she died. And if she doesn't come back --"

He stopped, unable to finish. But he was going to hear the sound of that gun and the feel of her blood on his hands forever.

"She'll come back."

"Go away."

A hostile silence fell. Kara groaned and hit the bars with her fists. "Just apologize to Roslin. Then you can get out of here."

"When she apologizes for stealing my daughter and for telling me Sharon was a spy. Until then she can go frak herself. And tell her I don't appreciate her using you for her dirty work either."

"I'm not --" Kara started and then gave up. "You know what? Never mind. Maybe you'll be in a better mood later."

He almost told her not to hold her breath, but she slammed her way out of the brig before he spoke.

Maybe she was right -- maybe Sharon was trapped on the basestar with Hera. Maybe she couldn't get away.

But maybe she hadn't downloaded at all. Maybe Hera was dead and Sharon had decided to airlock herself. Maybe all the other Eights had brainwashed her back into line.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. He didn't know.

All he knew was that Sharon would have done everything in her power to come back, no matter what foul thing Roslin believed.

Watching the basestars jump away with Sharon had ripped out his heart, and until and unless she found a way back to him with Hera, he figured he didn't need it for anything.

--- hr 

When Helo realized it wasn't Kara back to taunt him, that instead it was the Admiral standing there beside a marine who was opening the door to Helo's cell, he scrambled off the bed to stand at attention.

Adama regarded him for a long moment. Helo felt his own heart beating and didn't dare to speak.

"You and Sharon took a risk," Adama said. "And while I wish you had spoken to me about it, I can understand why you chose not to. But that risk didn't pay off."

Helo bit back a bitter laugh at the understatement and answered simply, "No, sir."

Adama went on. "Finding out she'd taken Hera behind my back angered me; I can only imagine what you felt. Then to say what she said on top of that, I can also understand why you lashed out. It would be hard to look past it. But I need you to, Helo. I need you to look past what's been said and done and do your duty. If you can promise me you can do that, this door is open."

Dark blue eyes met his, piercing down deeper than Helo really wanted them to see. And that let him release the anger, just a little. "I won't apologize to her, Admiral. I won't forgive her."

"I'm not asking that. Just leave her alone. Can you do that?"

He nodded, jaw clenching around the bitter taste of betrayal. "If she leaves me alone, yes, sir."

"And that means no stunts to try to rescue Sharon yourself, Captain. If she can get away, then fine, I'll welcome her back. And hopefully Hera as well. But I can't and won't risk any more of the Fleet for her, and that includes you."

He and Sharon had already considered the viability of him helping her rescue Hera. Trying to get to her alone would be even more futile. As much as it hurt to say it, he could answer honestly, "Yes, sir."

"Then you're restored to duty, Captain. I think, to get you out of the president's sight for awhile, you'll take over for Lieutenant Dualla with the Sagittaron refugees."

"Dogsville, sir?" he asked, blurting the slang before he thought about it, then winced when Adama leveled a stare at him. "The starboard hangar deck," he amended.

"Some of the refugees are getting restless," the Admiral said. "I'd think as someone in a very similar position, you would understand them."

Helo had never had much patience for the more freakishly religious of the Sagittaron sects, but he had to admit, being married to a Cylon put them at something of the same level.

He acknowledged his new duty without much enthusiasm, but the admiral pretended not to notice. "Very well. Also, I'm telling Apollo that you're still on rotation for CAP," Adama added, before moving to the door. "Get cleaned up and report to the starboard hangar deck."

Adama left, and Helo moved to follow, but his feet dragged to a stop before he reached the opening. He glanced back at the cot, but of course Sharon wasn't there. She had never been there -- this wasn't her cell.

Yet he felt strangely reluctant to leave, like he was letting her down by resuming his duty. Which was silly, since she understood duty better than most Colonial officers.

"Sir?" one of the young marines prompted.

Helo took a breath, told himself to stop being stupid, and walked through the door.

--- hr 

Kara was waiting for him, leaning against the bulkhead beside the hatch to his quarters.

"I see the Old Man sprung you," she said, not moving from her insolent pose.

"Astute as ever, Starbuck."

"Frak you," she retorted.

This time he managed to tighten his jaw around the nasty words that bubbled up. Gods, he had to calm the frak down.

When he didn't say anything she went on, "Thought you might want someone around when you got here."

It was only when his hand touched the wheel that he realized he didn't know if anyone had cleaned up his quarters. What if her blood was still on the wall and the floor?

Kara was suddenly beside him, her shoulder brushing his arm, and she turned the wheel. "Gods, gotta do everything for you." But when the door opened, her hand touched his briefly.

He clung to the thought like a lifeline that she wouldn't tell him to go in, if that was all still there, but his legs felt wobbly as he went into the room.

It was clean, with no trace of what had happened, of what he'd done. The cabin smelled of antiseptic, and while he was glad it didn't smell of blood, it also made the cabin smell empty. As though Sharon had been erased already.

He found one of her hair ties on the desk and clutched it in one hand, tangible proof that she'd been there.

"I suppose I should probably vacate this," he said, proud of how calm his voice was. "It's kind of big for just me."

Kara said, "XO gets his own cabin."

"I'm not XO. I'm a desk jockey watching over Dogsville."

"Today," she snorted. "Not for long, I bet. Tigh's still a drunk." But she stopped abruptly, her gaze flickered, and then she flashed a grin, trying to lighten things up. "Just like always."

A drunk mourning his wife, Helo filled in the unspoken thought silently. And yeah, that gave him something in common with the colonel, not that Tigh would ever see it that way.

"She's not dead," Kara murmured. "It's really frakkin' weird that I'm trying to make you feel better by telling you this, but Sharon's a Cylon. She resurrected. And she'll be doing her damnedest to get back to you. It just might … take awhile."

He closed his eyes, willing himself not to turn around. Kara meant well, but she just didn't understand. He murmured, "It's not just Sharon. Boomer said Hera was very sick. That she could die. I don't know if Sharon could go through that again." He paused and added very softly, slipping the elastic band over his hand so it wrapped his wrist in a snug reminder. "I don't know if I can."

"Oh." That seemed to shut her up for a moment, but not long enough. "I hadn't heard that."

"I know. You've been so… busy," he said, with just enough mockery she knew exactly what he was talking about.

"What is this sudden obsession with my frakking around?" she demanded, arms folded with a glare.

"I thought better of you."

"Yeah, well if you knew--" she began heatedly then snapped her mouth shut, turning away, but not before he didn't see the hurt flare in her face. He felt briefly sorry for pushing her so hard, and sighed.

"Just make a frakking choice. You're being selfish." He usually tried to make his advice to her go down a bit more easily, but he was all out of patience. "I know you're still dealing with stuff, and that's too bad, but you know, life out here isn't exactly a vacation for anybody. Wait too long and you'll lose them both."

She turned back, face set and eyes glittering dangerously. "You think I'm taking advice from you?"

"Gods know you need it from somebody."

"You married a _toaster_," she sneered. "She's finally dumped your sorry ass and went back to her kind. And she's not coming back, because she_ got _what she wanted all along."

One small distant part of him knew she was just trying to hurt him back, but the rest of him filled with the same rage that had gotten Roslin shoved into a wall. He took two steps toward Kara.

"You gonna hit me, Karl?" she asked, face lifted to his, taunting, not backing off an inch. "Go ahead."

He quivered, his fists clenched spasmodically at his sides, and he _longed_ to lash out at her. Every muscle in his body wanted to punch her right in the face.

But he wasn't like that, he wasn't. He wasn't going to do it, no matter how angry he was.

How much he wanted --

She reached out and for one confused instant he thought she was hitting _him_, and he stood there and let her.

But she grabbed his neck and pulled him down, and he realized one instant too late what she was doing, as his mouth landed on hers.

He yanked free. "Kara!" And he took a step back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His heart was thumping too quickly, shocked by the kiss.

She smirked at him. "See what a human can do?"

He didn't think, but suddenly his body was moving, and he grabbed her shoulders and yanked her into him. He leaned down - and she must have gone up on her toes, because it wasn't as far as he remembered - and their mouths locked, and there were teeth mixed in, scraping his lips. One hand held the back of her head, so she couldn't pull away, not that she seemed to want to - as both of her hands groped his hips and ass.

Her touch and the feel of her body were familiar - it wasn't Sharon, but it was familiar and he needed that more than he needed to breathe right now. And there was something equally needy in her hands, sliding under his tanks and hot on his skin, and how she kissed as if trying to bury herself.

His free hand slid up her waist to take a handful of her breast and when he felt her nipple harden under the stroke of his thumb, he felt himself tighten with want. He pushed against her, losing his breath as her hand slipped in his pants.

He squeezed his eyes shut, letting the sensation of her hand sliding on him fill him, and he groaned her name.

"Sharon…"

He realized what he's said, when Kara shoved herself free. His eyes popped open, in time to see her stumble backward in her haste. He reached out to try to catch her, but missed, as she fell against the side table.

She swore and straightened slowly, rubbing at her hip. They didn't say anything as the moment collapsed on them.

He sank into the bed and stared dully across the room, not looking at her. "Sorry. I can't. Maybe you can, but I can't."

She moved across his line of sight and came to sit next to him on the bed, within touching distance, but with space between them. Silence draped them, and Helo couldn't break it, running the last few minutes over and over again in his mind, trying to figure out why he'd done it.

"I have these dreams," she murmured. "They're not Sam, they're not Lee. It's that frakkin' toaster. Leoben." His gaze flicked to her in surprise that she was finally talking about it. He held very still and kept silent, hoping she would keep going.

After a moment, she continued in an even lower voice. "In the dream, I always want it. It's awful. I call Sam or find Lee because they make him go away."

"Did Leoben --" he started, but couldn't find a way to finish.

She shook her head, strands of blonde hair falling into her face and hiding her eyes. "No. He kissed me, that's all. I killed him a dozen times, every time he got too close. But he kept coming back, and he kept lying. I knew it, but I started to believe him anyway. He told me Sam was dead, and he pushed a little girl down the stairs. What kind of frak up am I to keep dreaming of frakking him?"

It just about killed him to see her hug her knees, curled up in a defensive ball and so frightened of her dreams she was blindly grabbing all the solace she could. But he was just as scared of his waking nightmares of Sharon's possible fates, wasn't he?

He patted her knee. "You're not a frak-up. Or at least no more than I am."

"That's encouraging," she muttered.

"Shut up, Kara." He slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, and she let him, resting her head against him.

She mumbled, "She'll find a way home to you with your girl. Just hold on."

His arm tightened around her. "I am." He kissed her hair and closed his eyes.

A small voice inside, the voice of rekindled hope, said that maybe Kara was right. Another day. Another week.

Forever.

He could wait.

_the end_


End file.
